


Good Intentions

by yodasyoyo



Series: 1008 tumblr followers! A.K.A. The Fluffy Assholes Collection. [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Mating Bonds, Mutual Pining, Pack Dynamics, emissary stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-10 08:46:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15945857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yodasyoyo/pseuds/yodasyoyo
Summary: In which Stiles thought he fake wolf-married Derek twenty-six years previously. Turns out it wasn't as fake as he thought.





	Good Intentions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Smowkie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smowkie/gifts).



> So this ended up being a little-- angstier than I expected? It's based on a prompt that was sent in by the eternally wonderful Smowkie for my 1008 tumblr followers celebration:
> 
> The prompt is based on a tumblr post that reads:  
> If the next big fanfic trope isn’t ‘we had a maybe-fake-maybe-not marriage 26 years ago and i just realized that we never bothered to check if it was legally binding’ i’m suing all of you.

“Are you sure about this?” Scott murmurs, reaching out to adjust Stiles’ tie and straighten his collar. “You don’t have to, we could find someone else.”

“Who?” Stiles asks, bemused.

“Well--” Scott casts around for an answer, but there isn’t one. He juts out his chin and says, “We could find another way.”

“Look, It’s cool,” Stiles says, and he means it. He thinks he means it. He’s forty-four years old. He’s never been in a relationship that’s lasted longer than a couple months. Never really been in love with someone. Well-- not someone who loves him back-- has spent more time than is good for him pining for something that he knows will never happen, unable to move on. This whole thing-- agreeing to what amounts to an arranged marriage with a beta from the McKinley pack to solidify pack ties-- well-- it could be the answer. “It’s time for me to settle down. And it’s pretty clear I’m not gonna find that person on my own, so--” He shrugs. “--it might as well be for the good of the pack.”

“Yeah,” Scott says, “but you--”

“Kerry and I could fall in love eventually,” Stiles says. “ We could be happy. She seems really cool.”

Scott frowns. “But I want you to have the love story you deserve.”

“Aw man, don’t wish that on me. She’ll probably cheat on me, or divorce me and leave me with alimony payments out the wazoo.”

“You shut up.” Scott wraps his arms around Stiles and hugs him so hard his ribs creak. “Don’t talk about yourself that way. You deserve-- everything. Love. Romance. Children, if that’s what you want.”

Stiles scrunches his nose up, but hugs him back, hard. “I don’t know, man. The kid thing isn’t really my bag. I’m more a fun uncle, or godfather kinda guy.”

“You’re a great godfather.’” says Scott immediately. “Ami and Tori love you. But what I’m trying to say is-- you’re more than my best friend or my emissary. We’re brothers-- you’re important, okay? And you deserve to be happy. You shouldn’t have to settle. Not for my sake, or for the pack, or for anybody.” Stiles doesn’t need to see Scott’s face to know he’s got his true alpha forehead wrinkle going on. The way he does when he’s being all profound and meaningful.

As they separate, Stiles grips Scott by the shoulders and looks him in the eye, feels something soft and aching in his chest. “You gotta stop worrying. It’s gonna work out, Scotty. I’m okay. Seriously. Everything is gonna be okay.”

-

Everything is not okay.

“What do you mean you can’t complete the bonding ceremony?” spits Stiles.

He’s sweating. He’s actually sweating.

Kerry is standing opposite him in this little forest glade wolfy love den place they’ve created in the Preserve. All entwined branches and dappled sunlight through the leaves. She’s wearing a beautiful hand embroidered dress. Stiles is in his best suit. Everybody is here. His dad and Scott’s mom. The pack. The McKinley pack. His old college roommate. Hell, even Greenberg is here for some unfathomable reason.

 Everything had been going well right up until Deaton, who was supposed to be officiating, had asked them to join hands, and then placed his own hand over theirs. That’s how it goes-- Stiles knows this remembers it from when-- well-- that’s how it goes, and then Deaton was supposed to say, “May the light of the moon shine brightly on you both and bring you peace, may the stars watch over your bonding and bring you joy, and as the sun warms the earth and causes all things to flourish and grow, may you grow and strengthen each other blah blah blah, it isn’t as though Stiles has memorized it or anything. But anyway, instead, Deaton had reached out, covered their hands, said: "May the light of the--” frowned, and followed that with: “This will not work. I cannot complete the ceremony.”

Kerry stares at Stiles and then at Deaton. “What’s going on?”

Deaton’s lips thin as he takes in the crowd of people before him. Looking between Stiles and Kerry he says, “Perhaps I should discuss this with you both in private.”

“What seems to be the problem,” Alpha McKinley says, stepping forward.

Scott’s two steps behind him, arms crossed defensively. “Deaton, what’s going on?”

“Stiles, Kerry, if you and your alphas would join me,” Deaton looks about himself for a suitable location. “Over there by that stump.”

“Creating the illusion of privacy,” Stiles mutters to himself as he trails after the others. There’s no way every wolf in the glade isn’t gonna be able to hear exactly what goes down.

“So,” Scott says, when they’re all a little distance away. “What’s happening?”

“I cannot complete this bonding ceremony. It will not work,” Deaton says.

“Why not?” Stiles and the others ask in unison.

“Because,” Deaton says. “Apparently Stiles is already mated.”

“What?” Everyone turns to look at Stiles.

“What?” squawks Stiles, in horror.

-

Stiles is eighteen years old when a pack from Reno passes through Beacon Hills, and Jeannie, their overbearing and slightly pretentious alpha, takes one look at Derek with his shirt off and tracks down Scott to express an immediate, and very forceful, interest in cementing the ties between their packs in a very specific way.

“It would be a great alliance for your pack,” she says, when she approaches Scott about it. “Unlike you, we are large, stable, and well resourced. You would have access to all of that support. It would benefit you to--”

Stiles, who is only six months into his emissary training, cuts her off, horrified, “What is this? Medieval times? You think we’re gonna trade Derek in for six goats and a cow?”

“It’s not like that!” Jeannie scowls at him.

“It sounds like it is. Have you even spoken to him? Asked him what he wants? Or did you just assume?”

She flushes. “Mating bonds are sacred in werewolf packs. It would join our two packs together in a way that--”

“He is not available,” Stiles says folding his arms across his chest, and facing her down. His heart is ricocheting round his chest, but he doesn’t even blink when her eyes flicker alpha red.

“Alpha McCall?” She turns to Scott.

“Uh--” Scott looks completely out of his depth. “I--um--”

“Scott!” Stiles wheels around horrified. “Tell her. Tell her she can’t have Derek!”

“Why?” Jeannie all but growls.

“Because!”

“Because?”

“Because--” Stiles screams. “Because he’s _mine_.”

“Yours?” She staggers back a step, mouth gaping.

“Tell her, Scott.”

“That’s--” she sputters, flushing pink, her eyes raking over Stiles in disbelief. “You’re not bonded.”

“Yet.” Stiles almost dislocates his jaw he’s grinding his teeth so hard. “Tell her, Scott.”

“They’re-- um--I--” Scott stares between Stiles and Jeannie. Then his cell phone starts to ring. “It’s Kira!” he says, sounding utterly relieved. Then clears his throat, “I--uh-- should take this. We’ll discuss this further tomorrow.” And he just kinda peaces out. Without another word, Stiles storms after him.

 

-

 

Scott and Stiles visit Derek’s apartment later that evening, and it turns out he has no interest in becoming mated to a strange alpha.

“See!” Stiles says, punching the air. “Vindicated. Fucking vindicated. I said he wouldn’t want to do it. I said--”

“You said--” Scott begins, casting him a Look. Stiles waves a hand airily, feigning a casualness he absolutely does not feel.

“Yeah, well I said what I said because I knew Derek wouldn’t want to do it and we needed to get him out of it.”

Which is true.

Mostly true.

Also there’s the deep soul crushing horror of having to watch Derek marry someone else and then move away. Soooo maybe he’s motives were not totally pure, but nobody needs to know that.

“Anyway,” Stiles continues. “I was right. He doesn’t want to do it, and we do need to get him out of it. So. That’s why I said it.”

Looking between them, Derek asks, “What did you say?”

“Nothing. It doesn’t matter. It’s irrelevant.”

Scott shrugs sheepishly. “Actually it kinda is. Relevant, I mean. I skyped Deaton and he says you could start a pack war if she works out that you were lying.”

“A pack war.” Derek’s jaw clenches. “What did you say?”

“Nothing!” Stiles says desperately. “Nothing. It was--”

“Deaton says,” Scott continues, “that if she’s suspicious that you were lying, the best way to avoid it would be--well--” he looks anxiously between Derek and Stiles.

“To knock her unconscious and then tell her that she dreamed the whole thing?” Stiles suggests hopefully.

Scott screws up his face like he’s bracing for a crash. “Not exactly.”

Across from them both Derek growls. “What. Did. Stiles. Say?”

Patting the couch with a hand, Scott levels his best wise true alpha face at Derek. “You might want to sit down,” he says.

And that is how, two weeks later, on a balmy June evening, Stiles ends up fake werewolf marrying Derek Hale in the backyard of the house he grew up in, in front of the whole pack, his dad, and Jeannie, and all her assorted hangers on. Scott officiates. Deaton, who’s taking a well deserved vacation in Tijuana, emails him the details of the ceremony.

Only Scott, Stiles and Derek know it isn’t real. They don’t want to risk the other pack finding out it’s a sham. So Stiles has to deal with a whole evening of various well meaning pack members who tell him that, “They always knew he and Derek would work it out,” and, “They’re so incredibly happy for them both.”

“It’s sudden,” Kira says to him, as she hugs him tightly. “But it just feels right, y’know.” Stiles doesn’t know how he’s gonna look her in the eye tomorrow when Jeannie and her pack finally leave town, and everyone finds out it was a lie.

So he and Derek cut their cake and have their first dance, and, memorably, their first kiss, which is little more than two sets of lips awkwardly smooshing together. The whole time Derek looks more and more tense, and Stiles-- well Stiles kinda wants to die. But there’s a part of him that clings on to the idea that now they’ve done this. Now they’ve faked it, maybe Derek will stop seeing as this annoying kid and maybe start seeing him in a different light. A more attractive light.

Except that isn’t what happens.

Of course it isn’t.

Because it was fake. It’s all fake. And the bond was never supposed to take. Deaton had said it wouldn’t. It’s a magical bond. Intent matters. Both parties need to want to be bonded for it to work. And sure, at that point Stiles had been soul destroyingly in love with Derek for two years, and wanted nothing more than to be bonded mates and ride off into the sunset together, but-- well-- it wasn’t like Derek felt the same way, so it was never gonna be real. He knew that. He knew Derek was never gonna have this big revelation and fall in love with him.

That isn’t how life works.

Of course, what he hadn’t predicted is that less than six months later Derek Hale had packed up his bags, left he McCall pack and moved away from Beacon Hills.

And Stiles, well-- Stiles hadn’t spoken to him since.

-

“So what you’re saying,” Stiles says, sinking onto the stump in a state of disbelief, his head spinning, “Is that I’m bonded to Derek Hale. Derek. Hale.”

“You tried to enter a mating bond with Kerry, knowing you were already mated?” Alpha McKinley pushes his way over to Stiles, he sounds furious.

“Hey, he didn’t know--” Scott cuts in, stepping between them. “It wasn’t supposed to take. It was years ago. They haven’t seen each other in twenty something years."

“How is this possible?” Stiles mumbles. “I don’t-- I don’t understand.” He’s dimly aware that Scott and Alpha McKinley are squaring up with each other, and he should probably do something, but his legs won’t seem to work. Someone’s gonna throw a punch any minute. Fortunately before that can happen Deaton steps forward to intervene.

“Are you okay?” He looks up to see Kerry taking a seat beside him, her hands hanging loosely in her lap.

“I-- I don’t know,” he admits. “Shit. I’m so sorry.”

She smiles wanly at him. “It’s okay,” she says. Even though it probably, definitely isn’t.

“It was never supposed to be real,” he says. “My bond to Derek. I-- I did it to protect him.”

“Protect him?”

“He had the worst-- the literal worst-- track record in relationships. Then one day this alpha swept in and started demanding that we give him up like he was--- I don’t know. A trophy. Something to be won. And I had to do something. I well--”

“You loved him.”

Softly he says, “Yes. I loved him.”

“Evidently he loved you too.”

He looks at her then, mouth gone slack. Because up until that point he’d kind of been focusing on the ‘Holy shit I’m bonded to Derek Hale,’ part of things, brain too scattered to really focus on why he was bonded in the first place. “Holy shit,” he mutters. “Derek was in love with me.”

“Yup.” She swallows.

“Derek was in love with me?” The words sound foreign on his tongue.

“He probably still is,” she says. “For wolves the mating bond is, difficult to let go of--”

“But we never even kissed!” Stiles says. “I mean. Once. At the ceremony, it was all very chaste. No tongue. And-- we didn’t consummate or--”

“The mating bond is more than just sex, Stiles,” she says gently. “If it’s done to form a pack alliance it can take time to manifest, but when it’s done right. When it’s done because two people are deeply in love-- it’s about--” she sighs, a little wistful. “Cherishing someone, I guess. You’ve hung around werewolf packs half your life, you’re an emissary. You know this.”

He does that’s the thing. He does. He’d just never thought about it as it related to himself. He’d been so convinced that his feelings were unrequited. That it was a joke. He hadn’t even-- oh god. This. This is why he hasn’t been able to hold down a relationship in twenty-six years. This is why he still, even now, finds himself pining after Derek-- because twenty-six years ago he magically bonded himself to-- “That bastard!” Stiles says, standing to his feet. “He was in love with me and he never told me.”

Kerry looks at him curiously. “Did you tell him about your feelings?”

“I was eighteen!” Stiles says. “I was heartsick, and terrified he would reject me!”

“But--”

“He left. He left, and he never came back.” He starts pacing back and forth furiously.

“Perhaps you should--”

“Go and find him wherever he’s hidden himself and yell at him,” Stiles says, patting his pockets and then remembering his car keys are with Scott. “Agreed.”

“I don’t know if that’s--”

“I have to go,” Stiles says. “I’m sorry. Genuinely. Sincerely. I really didn’t know. And-- if I can ever do anything or make it up to you--”

“It’s okay,” she says, and her smile is a little less forced this time. “Go find your husband.”

-

“How will you even find him?” Scott had asked after he handed Stiles his car keys. “None of us have spoken to him in years.”

“I have my ways,” Stiles had said grimly. “He can’t hide from me.”

Now, three days later, he’s sitting in his Prius in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, trying to focus on a locating spell. The last time he’d attempted this had been back in Idaho, and his cell phone had exploded in a shower of glass and melting plastic, so he’s been to the gas station and bought a goddamn map. Has it stretched open on his knees as he casts runes and tries to concentrate.

Twenty-six years ago, in another life, after Derek walked away, Stiles had low key tried to keep track of him. First by texting him, then when Derek changed his number, through Facebook, which Derek had joined but never really used. Then, eventually, as a last ditch attempt, through Cora. But it had been twenty-six years. Twenty-six goddamn years, and while Stiles was stubborn in his affections and loyal to a fault, even he, eventually, had had to admit to himself that maybe Derek didn’t want to be found. So Stiles had tried to let go, had tried to move on. It had never worked though, he can admit that to himself now-- deep down, whenever he went on a date or attempted to have a relationship, it had felt wrong. He had felt guilty. Now maybe he knows why.

So he has to do this, he thinks to himself as the map on his knees starts to glow pink. He has to find Derek. Even if it’s just to find a way to break this bond and move on with his life.

-

It takes a week, seven full days, but eventually Stiles finds himself driving up a lonely mountain road in Montana. The rich smell of pine is in the air and the first hints of autumn chill carry on the breeze. He can feel the rightness of it tugging in his gut, knows beyond a doubt that this is the place, had been even more certain when he passed a sign a while back for Wolf Mountain. _Derek Hale, ladies and gentleman, Derek fucking Hale,_ he thinks to himself, _my husband_.

The long winding road turns into a dirt trail which twists and turns up the mountain side, getting narrower and narrower, the trees closing in, and Stiles is just wondering whether he should park the Prius and get out and hike the rest of the way, when he rounds a bend and finds a small log cabin sitting alone, surrounding by tapering pine trees. He pulls up immediately, cuts the engine. There’s smoke curling out the chimney, and, nearby, a bird trills brightly.

Hands shaking slightly, Stiles opens the door to his car and climbs out. Almost at that precise moment, the door to the cabin creaks open, and Stiles stops. Stares.

He’s older. He was always going to be older, obviously, but somehow Stiles hadn’t prepared for it. He’s broader in the shoulder than Stiles remembers, his dark hair streaked with gray at the temple, his beard, because he has a beard now, a full one, not just artfully sculpted stubble, is also threaded with gray. As soon as he catches sight of Stiles he stills, hand clenching the door tight, eyes widening, nostrils flaring.

“You,” Stiles says, all his anger flooding his back, his voice like the crack of a whip. “You son of a--”

“S-Stiles?”

“Yes. Stiles. Oh. My. God. You remember?” Sarcasm drips from every word. “Your husband!”

“That--” Derek swallows. “That wasn’t--”

Stiles just folds his arms and glares at him. He isn’t, was never going to be, as broad as Derek is, but he’s no slouch. At forty-four he’s all lean, ropey muscle and sinew.

“Do you--” Derek swallows. He seems unable to drag his eyes away, and definitely unable to form a functioning sentence. “What are you--?”

“Let me tell you a funny story,” Stiles says, striding forward, and Derek actually flinches back a step, one hand still clutching the door in a white knuckle grip. “So there’s this pack. The McKinley pack. They’re based in Oregon and Scott’s been trying to forge an alliance with them. They’re good people.”

“So--”

“So, to seal the deal, guess what they wanted?”

Derek stares at him. Doesn’t answer.

“Marriage Derek. They wanted to connect the packs through a mating bond. And seeing as I’m basically the only one who’s still, eternally, single--” Stiles spits that word, and Derek winces. “--I volunteered in good faith.” He standing directly in front of Derek now, a barely repressed ball of fury.

For his part, Derek’s face has shut down completely, pale and expressionless. He won’t meet Stiles’ eyes. “Congratulations. What’s that got to do with me?”

“Well, Derek, I got all the way to the freaking altar, Deaton tries to perform the bonding ceremony and announces, in front of everyone that he can’t--”

“What?” Derek’s eyes dart up to meet his. “Why?”

“Because. You colossal asshole. I’m. Already. Bonded.” They stare at each other.

Derek’s eyebrow twitches. “But--”

“Now!” Stiles jabs the air with a finger. “I know I was ridiculously, stupidly, _obviously_ in love with you back then, but I figured that our fake werewolf marriage would be, well, fake because there was no fucking way you were in love with me. Right? Right?”

Derek looks like someone just brained him with a blunt object. “You-- You were in love with me?”

“Yes!” Stiles yells. “Of course I was. How did you not know? Everyone knew!”

“But--” Derek’s eyes scan Stiles’ face urgently, and he takes a half step forward, then stops himself, his face turns bitter. “Were. You were in love with me.”

And even though Stiles is angry, even though he’s fucking furious at all this wasted time and pointless separation, he knows in that moment, with absolute certainty that Kerry was right. Derek hasn’t moved on at all. He’s just as stuck as Stiles is, and it helps. It helps to know that he isn’t the only one to have been stupidly invested all this time.

“Why didn’t you tell me how you felt?” Stiles says. “Why did you leave? Why did you cut me out?”

Derek sighs deeply. “Because. Like you. I assumed my feelings were unrequited. And after, we’d ‘bonded’” --he makes the air quotes, Stiles refuses to find it adorable-- “to each other, nothing changed, you still treated me like this-- annoying guy you could barely stand to be around. You made a big deal about how you’d only done it to help me out. But I had bonded to you. I knew I had. There was no way I could have gone through that ceremony and not meant every word. And it was too painful. In my mind at some point you were going to find someone else and move on, and I was going to have to watch, and I couldn’t do it. I knew the only way I would be able to let you do that was if I wasn’t around you. So.”

“So you hid yourself away on a mountain and brooded.” Stiles folds his arms across his chest.

“I didn’t brood. I--I have a business. I make stuff.”

“You make stuff.”

“Furniture. Carve things. Out of wood.” He gestures expansively at the trees around him, like he thinks Stiles may not understand where wood comes from.

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Did you date?”

“Once. I tried to,” His ears tinge red, he looks guilty. “It didn’t stick.”

There’s a long silence. Stiles knows what he has to say, but now that it’s here, he feels terrified. There’s an ocean between them. Years and years and years of misunderstanding and regret.

In the end it’s Derek who breaks the silence, says, “If you-- if you want to break the bond so you can be with someone else, we’ll find a way to do it.”

Stiles swallows, feels, for the first time in years, like he might be about to cry. He sniffs loudly, swipes at his nose and swallows the impulse down. “Is that what you want?”

With that Derek bites his lip. There’s a blush creeping up over the tips of his ears, the high arch of his cheek. He ducks his head, shakes it.

“Oh thank God,” Stiles breathes, and falls forward into Derek’s arms, knowing, without a shadow of a doubt, for the first time in years, that he’ll be there to catch him. It won’t be easy. Nothing about them has ever been easy, but now they’re on the same page, maybe they can actually work through things together.

-

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to everyone who leaves kudos or comments. It's really appreciated. 
> 
> Come join me on [tumblr!](http://yodas-yo-yo.tumblr.com/)
> 
> This is the only fic I wrote today. Because it ended up being a lot longer than I thought. 
> 
> Also, a disclaimer about the title of this series of fics:  
> When I say fluffy assholes, I don't mean buttholes covered in lint. I mean that these fics are fluffy and the characters are assholes. I feel this needs to be stated. For the record, my tumblr followers are all awesome, and to my knowledge, in no way assholes, fluffy or otherwise.
> 
> edited to add: IN THE COMMENTS SOMEONE SAID THEY WANTED TO KNOW HOW THEY WOULD MAKE THEIR RELATIONSHIP WORK. So i wrote a little response which I've copied and pasted here for those of you who are also interested.  
> My personal headcanon for how they make it work is as follows.
> 
> That first day they stay up all night just catching up, maybe Derek makes Stiles hot chocolate and they sit on his lumpy old couch and talk and talk and talk and maybe cry a little, and tentatively hold each other. They don't have sex at first. Not because they don't want to, but they talk about it and decide there's so much lost time and so much pain, that they just need to reconnect on a very fundamental level. The distance between them has been like an open wound, and it needs to heal a bit first.
> 
> So Stiles stays with Derek for two or three months, and they start to relearn each others little quirks and foibles and annoyances like how Stiles always squeezes the toothpaste tube in the middle, and Derek always overfills the trash, and also good stuff, like how Derek is totally the most amazing handyman, and Stiles cooks the most mouthwatering food, and they start developing little quirks and routines, like how they listen to Wait Wait on Saturday morning while they're standing at the sink washing the dishes together, or how Derek always makes them both cocoa at 10pm and then they sit on the couch and read together, Stiles feet tucked under the meat of Derek's thigh (They both have reading glasses now!). And slowly hugs become a little longer and there are casual affectionate kisses, and hand-holding when they head into town for supplies, and it's all very sedate, a proper old fashioned courtship, but in the best way-- because it isn't coming from some archaic notion about purity (obviously, because they're already bonded), but from a deep need that they both feel to heal emotionally and to gain that sense of companionship. They make mistakes. They argue occasionally, because sharing space with someone when you're used to being by yourself is always hard. But they cherish each other too much to overcome it.
> 
> Maybe one night, about a month or six weeks in, Derek plans a date and takes Stiles out to a restaurant and maybe the have a couple of beers, and Stiles gets a bit squiffy (in a good way) and then maybe they go to the cinema and they end up necking in the back row like teenagers, and when they get back to the cabin, well, things go further, and it's great, it's good-- and totally THEM but on their own terms. And eventually after a while, when Stiles can't justify being away from the pack any longer they decide to head back to Beacon Hills together. Derek moves in with him, and rejoins the McCall pack, and goes running with his pack on a full moon for the first time in years. But they keep Derek's cabin in Montana, and whenever they're stressed or tired, or sniping at each other a little more than they might want, they take themselves there and spend quality time together and sort things out.
> 
> Derek finds a nice piece of oak in the woods one day and makes a little sign to hang across the door to the cabin. He carves the words, "Happy Place" into it. Stiles tells him he's a sap, but he can't stop smiling.
> 
> Of course, you/e welcome to imagine whatever you want. So if that isn't how you see it going, then feel free to ignore this ;)


End file.
